by Mari Hannah
There was silence on the line.
‘Don’t tell me she’s at work?’
‘Against my advice,’ Jo said. ‘And with a ridiculous notion of tackling Fearon—’
‘She can’t do that!’
‘I don’t mean she’s going to ask him about Rachel – give her some credit! She wants to keep him close in the vain hope that he starts mouthing off and inadvertently gives away a clue as to where she might—’
‘Vain being the operative word. Does she have any idea how crazy that sounds?’
‘She doesn’t care. She just wants Rachel home safe.’
BY THE TIME Kate reached Alnwick station, Rachel McCann’s disappearance was all round the nick. As she entered the stairwell, heading for the incident room, she overheard snippets of conversation that made her very angry. A police constable was standing on the ground-floor landing making fun of the ‘weirdo’ who’d come in to report Rachel missing.
She hung behind, grinned at him. ‘Give her the brush-off, did you?’
The PC grinned back.
Smug bastard.
‘Sure did!’ he crowed. ‘Silly bitch was chuntering on about some DCI from the Toon being a personal friend – like that was going to make a difference.’ His face went red as he saw the reaction of those he’d been mouthing off to. His audience retreated quickly, leaving him to face the music.
‘Listen to me, you lazy git. I’m the DCI from the Toon you just referred to. So get your arse out there and look before I land you with a blue form! I’m not telling you because I know the family socially or because Rachel McCann is a decent lass – I couldn’t give a shit if she was the chav from hell! You treat her mother with the respect she deserves. You hear me?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He could hardly bring himself to look at her. ‘But can I just say in my defence—’
Her glare cut him dead.
He tried again. ‘Ma’am, the girl was in touch with a mate of hers. I didn’t think—’
‘You got that right! Has it never occurred to you that a clever offender might use the victim’s phone to call someone in order to create the impression of normality and throw us off the scent? Given that most of her friends are at college, at that hour in the afternoon there’s a strong likelihood they’ll be in a lecture and therefore unlikely to pick up.’ He opened his mouth but Kate waved him away in disgust. ‘I’m not interested in your poxy excuses – just piss off out of my sight!’
THE MURDER INVESTIGATION TEAM were hard at it when Kate walked in, still livid with the dickhead in the corridor. There was no recent activity recorded on the murder wall. No identity for the second victim. No news: period. She went straight to her office and shut the door with the intention of contacting Emily. But as she pulled her mobile from her pocket, it rang in her hand.
Gormley had worked quickly. He’d already re-interviewed John Butterworth, Maxine O’Neil’s teacher, the only witness to see her standing at the bus stop before she went missing, a split second observation as he drove by that may or may not have been accurate. He’d been labelled as the last person to see her alive and was therefore the most appropriate witness to start with.
‘Does his story hold up?’ Kate asked.
‘Yep. Drove the route myself and checked his movements on CCTV. His car was seen leaving Beverley at the time he gave in his original statement. He had an appointment at a private dental clinic four miles away. Their security camera captured him arriving – a few minutes early, according to the receptionist. I timed the run and there would be no time to abduct the girl and conceal her, unless he had her hidden in the boot while he was sitting in the dentist’s chair.’
‘How did he come across to you?’
‘Genuine, I’d say. Really upset when I told him we’d found her body. Visibility was good that morning. No fog, like we had here this morning, no parked cars obstructing his view of her standing there.’
‘And the bus driver?’
‘One hundred per cent convinced that she was not at the stop as he drove by. He’s adamant on timings. His evidence is, or should I say was, corroborated by witnesses on the bus at the time. I’ve yet to trace them all. Some have moved but I’ve got Ailsa on it. The bus driver knew Maxine, by sight not name, often picked her up at that stop and dropped her close to her home. It was and still is his regular route.’
‘Damn!’ Kate had been hoping for some discrepancy between what the witnesses were saying now and the statements obtained at the time. But Gormley quickly ruled that out. ‘OK, keep on it. Anything else I need to know?’
‘Nah. I’ve got a list of witnesses who came forward at the time, those who used the road regularly. I’ll work my way through them in case our boy is among them. But it’ll take some time. It’s the main east-west route used by thousands every day, so there’s a good few to get through.’
‘Have you been to the scene of the last sighting?’
‘Yep, it’s a long straight road. Not much vegetation to hide in. It seems likely she was taken by car. Whether she was taken by force or accepted a lift off someone she knew is the million-dollar question. Any news on Rachel?’
‘No. I’m about to call Emily. Speak later, yeah?’
‘Yeah . . . give her my love.’
63
OVER THE DAYS that followed, Emily combed the area, posting Rachel’s picture at all points in local villages, stopping people in the street to ask if they had seen her. No one had. She kept ringing Kate in the incident room, frantic for news. At night she sat in her daughter’s bedroom, alone and distressed. Office hours she spent on B-wing, trying to act as if it was business as usual, as if she wasn’t watching Fearon’s every move, hoping he would betray himself with some careless word.
On the morning of 19 February, Rachel’s twentieth birthday, there was a light tap on her door. Kent put his head round, fatigue written all over his features. He was working a split shift and wanted to talk.
Emily was about to turn him away, but how could she?
She beckoned him in.
Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him. Even as he approached her desk he appeared to be having second thoughts. Declining the offer of a seat, he stood to attention on the other side of her desk, feet slightly apart and hands behind his back. Understandably nervous.
‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, under the circumstances,’ he said.
‘Bill, relax . . . I’m paid to look after the work force as well as the residents.’
‘Yeah, but now is hardly appropriate, is it?’
Emily knew he meant well. She appreciated his kindness but didn’t want his sympathy. ‘It’s as good a time as any,’ she said. ‘The word appears to be out. You know what it’s like in here. I haven’t had one single application all morning. Either the inmates’ lives have miraculously improved or they’ve heard the rumours that my Rachel is missing.’
Kent pulled out a chair and sat down. His personnel file was on her desk. She’d skimmed it once or twice over the last few days but couldn’t bring herself to read the whole sorry tale of his daughter’s disappearance. It just made her own personal drama that much more terrifying. Rachel hadn’t been in touch or contacted any of her friends. That meant one of two things: either she didn’t want to be found or . . .
Don’t think that way.
‘I know exactly what you’re going through.’ Kent managed to acknowledge her vulnerability and their common ground without actually mentioning his own daughter’s disappearance. Emily didn’t blame him. She could see how difficult it was for him – for both of them. He looked like a torn soul. Like he’d been to hell and back. ‘When it happened to me, I . . . well, let’s just say it’s not something you ever get over. It does help to talk about it . . . not that I’ve been doing much of that lately.’
And still he hadn’t uttered his daughter’s name.
Without realizing it, Emily let her guard down. It was as if she’d crossed to the other side of the desk: therapist turned patient. She
talked about Rachel openly, told him how lost she was without her, insisting vehemently that she hadn’t just run away. Emily had talked about nothing else for days, sounding off to anyone who cared to listen. She’d even appeared on local radio, appealing for information. There had been a groundswell of support from neighbours and community leaders. Everyone had been kind. At the very least, she knew that eyes and ears were alert to any news. Thanks to Kate’s intervention, an experienced female sergeant, Jane Lowther, was now on the case.
‘Emily?’
The sound of Kent’s voice pulled her back into the room.
‘I asked if there was news. From Sergeant Lowther or the SIO?’
A sinister thought popped into her head. Kent no longer looked like a man on the edge of the abyss. Why had he chosen to come to see her now? She doubted it was to talk about his problems. He’d never wanted to before. He seemed much more interested in discussing hers. She’d been so caught up in her own problems that she’d readily obliged. She couldn’t remember a damn word that had passed between them in the last hour. And that unnerved her. Suddenly, she was wary of him. Maybe he was digging for information, checking to see whether the police were taking her daughter’s disappearance seriously.
Maybe he was involved.
64
KATE DANIELS SWORE under her breath and stared at her warbling mobile phone. How in God’s name anyone expected her to evaluate a case and field calls at the same time was beyond her. One more interruption and she knew she’d start yelling. Snatching up the phone, she gave her name and rank, trying her very best to keep the annoyance from her voice.
‘Kate, I need to talk to you . . .’ Emily’s tone was urgent, her voice hushed as if she didn’t want to be overheard. ‘I know you’re busy but it’s important. I think it is, anyway, I’m not sure.’
‘Is Sergeant Lowther not on duty?’
Emily ignored the nudge to take her problems elsewhere. ‘I didn’t ask. This is something you need to hear.’
‘OK, I’m listening.’
For a moment there was silence.
‘This is off the record, OK?’ Emily explained she didn’t want to get anyone into trouble. ‘Kate? You still there?’
Looking up at the ceiling for divine inspiration, Kate wished she had a quid for every time she’d heard that. In her early days in CID there used to be a red phone – the Bat Phone – in the incident room for ‘off-the-record’ calls. Only trusted informants were given the number, and when answering the Bat Phone detectives just said ‘hello’ or recited the number, keeping it all strictly unofficial – no mention of rank or name. But those days were long gone. Besides, Emily wasn’t an informant. She was a mate.
‘This sounds like it’s going to take a while. Can you hang on a second? I’ve got someone with me but I’ll send her away.’ Kate made a ‘sorry’ face to Carmichael and covered the speaker. ‘We’d get more peace and quiet in Sarah’s Café. Gimme five, will you?’
Lisa got up and left the room.
Kate waited until she’d shut the door. ‘All clear, Emily. What’s the problem?’
‘There’s an officer on my wing who has issues with Walter Fearon, the inmate I told you about. This man’s daughter went missing in suspicious circumstances . . .’ Emily hesitated. ‘She was the subject of a murder enquiry, Kate.’
‘How old was she?’
‘Not very old . . . ten, I think.’
Alarm bells rang in Kate’s head. Her thoughts shot to the morgue, to an unidentified girl reduced to bones, a grotesque grinning skull, a set of sandy pearls around her neck. Picking up her fountain pen, she asked, ‘Do you know her name?’
‘Sophie Kent. Her father, Bill – full name William George Kent – was questioned, along with other males known to the family. No charges were ever brought.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘Ages, several years at least. I’m not exactly sure.’
‘And they never found her?’
‘No, they never did. I have to tell you, I didn’t hear it from Kent. His SO told me in confidence a few days before Rach went missing—’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me before now?’
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.’
Kate had to work hard to keep her temper in check. ‘Tell me about the officer.’
‘He was advised to consult with me. Ordered might be more accurate – he was given no choice in the matter. He’s been victimizing one of the inmates at every opportunity and threatened with the sack if he doesn’t lay off. He’s been avoiding me like the plague – until about an hour ago, when he knocked on my door and asked to see me.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe, I don’t know. We talked for a while and . . . well, I felt uncomfortable around him. He didn’t talk about his problems. He seemed more interested in mine. He may just have been curious. Look, I know this sounds paranoid, but I got the distinct impression he was fishing for information.’
Emily was moving as she talked, pacing up and down by the sounds of it. Kate sensed there was more to come. ‘How did he know Rachel was missing?’ she asked.
‘Are you kidding? Everyone knows. I’ve been on the bloody radio, haven’t I? Look, I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything.’
‘You said that already. Is that why you waited several days before calling me?’
‘No! I’m sorry, OK . . . I did hesitate, that’s true – for good reason. I could be out by a mile. If Kent is entirely innocent, he’s gone through a terrible trauma and I don’t want to add to that. It would help if . . .’ Emily paused: an icy silence for a split second. ‘Kate, I need to know if his name has come up in your enquiry.’
‘Hang on! This guy turfs up at your door giving you lots of sympathy and that makes him suspicious?’ Daniels’ office door opened. Irritated, she waved the intruder away and carried on with her call. ‘Did Kent mention his daughter at all?’
‘Kind of, in a roundabout way.’
‘Either he did or he didn’t.’
‘He said he knew how I felt. I took that to mean he’d experienced the same thing. I didn’t push it or let on that I knew his situation. How could I? I’d promised his SO that I’d treat what he’d told me in the strictest confidence.’
‘That’s the problem with off-the-record, Emily. It ties people’s hands.’ Daniels had a nasty feeling in her gut. There was something wrong with the picture. She didn’t have a clue what it was, but she sure as hell wanted to find out. ‘He never mentioned his daughter once? Are you absolutely sure about that?’
‘I’m . . . I don’t know.’
‘Emily, think very carefully before you answer my next question. Is Fearon the only inmate Kent has a downer on?’
‘Why?’
‘Is he? Does he give anyone else a hard time?’
‘I’ve had no other complaints.’
‘Fearon’s offences: do they involve children?’
‘No.’
‘Could they . . . potentially?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just answer my question.’
‘I guess, but it’s not likely. He’s into older women.’
‘Isn’t that what paedophiles do when they want to target children? Make friends with their mothers, I mean. See what I’m getting at? Why is Kent so down on Fearon? Because he’s a sex offender?’
‘Yes, well, that’s what I assumed . . .’ More pacing at the other end. Kate could hear the distress in Emily’s voice as she tried to explain her concerns and put her point across. She was failing in that regard. ‘What if he’s a sex offender too? What if their antagonism towards one another is nothing but an elaborate hoax to fool people into thinking they’re the worst of enemies?’
‘You’re suggesting they’re in cahoots, jointly responsible for Rachel’s disappearance? No, Emily, I’m not buying that. When I had dinner with Jo last week she talked about Kent, not by name, and without mentioning his daughter’s disappearance. I don
’t imagine she knows about that or I’d have heard about it before now. It was his inability to curb his temper she was angry about; “a despicable animal” – those were the exact words she used to describe him. She said he’d beaten Fearon on more than one occasion.’
‘So?’
‘Sex offenders acting together don’t beat each other up.’
‘Unless Fearon had stepped out of line. He’s not the easiest person to control. If he’s a threat to Kent, that could explain it, couldn’t it?’
The DCI didn’t answer.
‘Please listen to me, Kate. I checked Fearon’s record against Kent’s personnel file. HMP Northumberland isn’t the only thing they have in common. The inmate spent a short time at HMYOI Wetherby when he was fifteen years old. Kent was on secondment there for part of that sentence. I’m begging you, please tell me whether he’s already under suspicion.’
‘You know I can’t do that, Emily.’ Kate wished she could. The internal phone rang. ‘Damn! Leave it with me, Em. I’ve got to go.’
‘No, wait! Walker said Kent was upset because of what happened on the beach at Bamburgh. Can you at least confirm whether he has or hasn’t come forward in relation to the bodies you recovered there?’
‘No, I can’t. I’m sorry.’ Robson stuck his head round the door and mouthed Bright’s name. Kate nodded at him. ‘OK, I’m hanging up now, Em. My guv’nor is screaming for me. I need to be somewhere. Rest assured, I will look into this. You were right to come forward. It might be important.’
‘You promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. You do realize this man could be entirely inno—’
‘Kate, I’m not going mad.’
‘I didn’t suggest you were. But you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. It’s hard to keep a clear head with Rachel missing. If Kent is the father of a murder victim, I wouldn’t necessarily expect him to contact the incident room or turn up here. Even if it happened ten years ago, we’d have taken samples from him. The minute a match was found, we’d have been on to him like a shot to inform him that his daughter had been located, and probably to take a closer look at him.’